


Visiting Hours

by NervousAsexual



Category: Robin Hood (1973)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sad, Sad with a Hopeful Ending, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: Sometime after Prince John wins Maid Marian makes her scheduled visit to the dungeon.
Relationships: Maid Marian & Robin Hood (Disney), Maid Marian/Robin Hood (Disney)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Visiting Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyitsjames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsjames/gifts).



"I'm sorry," she says when she finally sees him. How can she not, seeing bruises under the torn-out patches of his beautiful sleek fur, the obvious break in his nose, and his ears, oh, god, his ears, shredded by some means she doesn't want to think about.

"For what?" he asks dreamily. He smiles at her and she knows without touching him that he is burning up, lost under a fog of fever. "I'm the luckiest man alive, because I'm looking at you."

She doesn't dare touch him. There's nowhere for her to touch him that won't be agonizing for him. Despite the promises she made for herself the tears flood down her face.

"No, no, beautiful lady, don't cry." He raises a hand to her cheek and wipes away tears with his thumb though it must hurt him, it must, she only has to look at his hand to know it's been broken again and again.

"Of course I'll cry, you stupid, stupid man." He speaks like it hasn't been months, like his voice isn't hoarse and cracked, like they're kids again playing at house. "Look what he's done to you."

"This?" Robin looks down at himself as if he hadn't noticed his wounds. "Hardly worth mentioning. What is sickness to the body of a knight-errant? What matter wounds?"

She smiles through the tears because even after all this, even when he is so lost to reality, they still haven't broken him.

"For each time he falls he shall rise again..." He trails off and looks around them. "Marian?"

"What is it?"

"What are you doing here?" He puts his head to one side, the way he did when they were children and he was confused by something. "This is no place for a lady."

She looks around too, taking in the cold, mildewed stone walls, the heavy iron chain locked to his ankle, the dead-eyed sheriff who watches them both. She starts to put her hand over his as it hovers at her cheek but doesn't dare. "No place for a gentleman, either."

He makes a show of looking around. "If I see any gentlemen I'll tell them so. But why..."

"To see you." Even though it hurts, it is the one thing she demands from John: some amount of time, however brief, with Robin. She has to be sure that he is still alive, because if and when John kills him she will kill herself.

"Ah." He nods as if that is all it takes to satisfy him. "It's good to see you, Marian. Thinking of you always makes the days pass a little easier."

His eyes are still unfocused, but there is a clearness to them. She may get a few moments of lucidity from him. "I've missed you so much. I wish there were something I could do."

"You can live," he said softly. "You can enjoy something. A sunset, maybe, or the birds singing. I'd like to think that you are out there, happy, even if it's only for a moment."

He's hurt, and he's sick, and he's bone-thin. She turns away and goes to kneel at the sheriff's feet.

"Please," she says, folding her hands as if in prayer. "Will you let me bring him some of my food?"

The sheriff frowns at her doubtfully.

"He needs more than what he's getting. Surely you can see that."

"So?"

Once, for a time, she thought the world was full of people who were kind and generous and loving. She didn't realize at first how lucky Robin was that the friends who surrounded him were all of those things. "He'll die." She grasps at his belt. "Please. I'm not asking much, Prince John won't know the difference. Can't you allow me that?"

"Marian," Robin says. "What are you doing here?"

"Loverboy's getting lonely." The sheriff shoves her away. The key at his waist jingles as he hikes his belt back up.

"I'm sorry," she says again to Robin. "For all of this."

"You've done nothing wrong." He reaches out and takes her hands in his. "You've no reason to be sorry."

"Someone should be."

He looks so weary. "I'm sorry," he says. He bows his head. "I'm sorry that I failed and that it's come to this."

"Don't. You've done more than anyone could expect."

"And look where it's led." His eyes are clear. He's lucid, if only for a moment. She squeezes his hands gently.

"You're tired," she says. "You should rest." It's the only time he can rest safely, she knows, because every other minute of the day he is surrounded by people who get enjoyment from his suffering. "Let's at least sit down."

For once he doesn't argue. He follows her to the ground and curls up beside her, resting his head on her lap.

"It's alright." She strokes his fur as gently as she can. "Go ahead and sleep."

He sighs deeply. When he does sleep he is so completely limp she is almost grateful for the rattle in his lungs--at least that means he is still alive.

Too soon their time is at an end. The sheriff doesn't give him the chance to surface slowly. He yanks Marian away so quickly that Robin's head strikes the floor with a crack that makes her wince.

"Get up," he growls to them both, but he doesn't give Marian a chance to comply. He drags her up by the arm.

"Robin," she calls, trying to pull away. "Robin, I love you."

But his eyes are so glazed and his body so limp that she knows he can't hear her. She tries to take comfort in that. He's somewhere they can't touch him, at least for a little while.

The sheriff takes her back to the tower room that is hers for now.

"Don't know what you think you're doing," he says, shoving her inside. "Stringing him along. You're worse for him than John is, you know that?"

"No." She catches herself on the table where she takes her solitary meals. "I don't know that."

When he leaves and the key turns in the lock she lays her head on the table and cries freely for a handful of minutes. All of this is wrong. None of this should have happened.

Eventually she calms somewhat, and then she brings out the two souvenirs of this last trip. In one hand is the tin cup that is Robin's sole remaining possession. In the other is her half of the trade: a chunk of candlewax and in it the impression of the key that hangs from the sheriff's belt. She doesn't know yet how she will melt the tin, but she'll find a way.

Things are going to be very different very soon. She will not see him suffer much longer.


End file.
